Flowers
by scorchedtrees
Summary: AU: He knows he's screwed the moment she smiles at him, the girl with the flower earrings. Written for Rivetra Week.


_A/N: I wrote this for Rivetra Week Day 3: Flowers (alternate prompt). This is a super cheesy modern AU okay you have been warned. Also hints of other ships (Ymir/Historia, Annie/Bertholt) so if you despite those then don't read this I guess?_

* * *

He knows he's screwed the moment she smiles at him.

When she walked into the shop, it took him a few seconds to realize he was glancing at the new customer far longer than necessary. When she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear absentmindedly as she perused the display of greeting cards not far from the front counter where he works, he found himself oddly transfixed by the freckles on her cheek, the little dark pinkish-red flowers dangling from her ears. When her phone rang—he recognized the ringtone, a MIDI version of Beethoven's ninth—and she picked up, speaking quietly into the receiver, the soft sound of her voice caused something strange to flip in his stomach.

But then she goes up to the cash register to pay, thanks him and beams before leaving, and he can only stare after her and think he is utterly, utterly screwed.

.

.

.

"No way," Isabel breathes, propping her elbows on the table and grinning slyly up at him. "Nii-chan, in _love_?"

He glares at her over the lid of his coffee cup and thinks not for the first time that letting her exploit his employee discount at the local anime store three months ago was a bad idea; ever since she got into Japanese cartoons and comics, she's been calling him that constantly, much to his annoyance.

"I'm not in _love_," he snaps, contemplating going back to his shift early just to get out of this conversation. Why had he asked his little sister for help in the first place?

_Because she knows everybody and you don't?_ a voice in the back of his mind that sounds like Hanji suggests.

"Shut up," he mutters.

"I didn't even say anything!" Isabel tries to sound affronted but her little smirk gives her away. "Did you get a name?"

"No. She paid with cash."

"Tough." Isabel clicks her tongue. "So what's this girl like? The girl who stole _your_ heart, which is harder to get than a nice pair of Uggs on Black Friday in under an hour."

He wants to stand up and leave then—he came out to the food court to get coffee, not be harrassed by his stupid high school-age sister—but then he can't help thinking of the girl with the flower earrings again and at last he only says, "She's short."

"Shorter than you? It's official, you guys need to get married. You won't come across such a chance again."

He throws a wadded-up napkin at her and she catches it with a wink. "C'mon, nii-chan, I'm just kidding. What's she look like?"

Levi has never been good at describing people or anything in general, really, so he frowns and has to think before speaking. "Her hair's… blond-ish. Dark blond? She was wearing jeans and a light blue shirt, and she had… flower earrings."

"You noticed a girl's earrings." Isabel's jaw is going to come unhinged if she doesn't close it soon. "Wow, nii-chan, can I help you pick out baby names?"

His next napkin hits her forehead.

.

.

.

He's working a lazy afternoon shift, waiting for Ymir to come relieve him of his position, when his phone buzzes in his pocket: _you're in luck,_ Isabel's message says, _stand straight and don't glare at my future sister-in-law!_

Levi shoves the phone back in his pocket, not deigning to dignify that with a reply, but he wonders if he's actually going to see her again—and why the hell he's being so ridiculous over some random girl he saw for maybe ten minutes tops. He can't recall ever being so interested in a specific girl before—he's thought a few in school or on TV were attractive, but not much else beyond that. He doesn't even know her name.

He's still wondering what exactly is wrong with him when the door at the front of the shop opens and someone walks in. Female, short, blond, with little earrings—and most definitely not the girl he saw the other day.

She walks straight up the counter and he notes that she's shorter than the other girl, the one with the flower earrings, and a bit younger too—Isabel's age. This one doesn't have middlemist red flowers in her ears, just daisies. "Can I help you?" he drawls when she doesn't move, standing there looking at him uncertainly.

"Uh, you're Levi, right? Isabel's brother?"

"Yeah…?"

"She told me you wanted to talk to me?"

His hand twitches at his side, strongly tempted to reach up and smack himself on the forehead. He settles for a blank look instead. "No," he says. "I don't know who you are."

"I'm Historia Reiss." She fidgets a little and it takes him another second to realize why. _Oh._ Reiss—must be the daughter of or at least closely related to the guy who owns the mall and pretty much the whole town.

"Hey."

That's Ymir, looking far more interested in work than Levi has ever seen her, though he supposes the tiny blond girl in front of him might have something to do with it. He leaves his coworker with a brief wave, dropping the keys to the back room in the taller girl's hands and jabbing her lightly in the shoulder as he walks off. Ymir tries to elbow him back but misses—at least that's one point in favor of his height.

The next time he goes to work, she doesn't say anything to him but on her break she shoves a cup of coffee in his hands, and as he drinks it he thinks at least one of them got to talk to the girl they're interested in.

.

.

.

Isabel tells him to get a Facebook already because she's sure he can recognize who he's looking for better than she can, and _nii-chan it's the twenty-first century come on_, but he has a feeling the girl with the flower earrings is from out of town and he won't be able to find her online, not without a name.

"Forget it. Seriously," he says when she gives him an _I-don't-believe-you_ look. "It doesn't matter."

"But _Levi_," she whines, and it's the use of his name and not some silly phrase that gives him pause. "You're in college already and you've never been interested in a single girl before. It's my duty as your sister to help you!"

"No, it's your duty as my little sister to listen to everything I say and it's my duty as your older brother to beat up any guy who looks at you," he says, completely deadpan.

She pouts. "But I want to meet her!"

"I'm pretty sure I'll never see her again," he says, voicing what's been bothering him since Isabel sent the wrong girl over to Hallmark. "Just forget it, Isabel."

Her lower lip juts out further at that but she doesn't respond, and Levi thinks maybe she finally got the damn point. He goes on thinking this until next week, when he's just started a shift and is restocking shelves in the back, someone taps him on the shoulder.

He glances up from where he kneels on the ground, sorting boxes, into unfriendly blue eyes and a pale, prominent nose. His eyes catch on the color of her hair, the faded denim of her jeans, and suddenly he finds himself praying this is a customer in need of help—which is funny because he usually prays they leave him alone.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"You were looking for me?" The girl's voice is bored, though Levi detects a hint of curiosity beneath, and he curls his fingers into fists and huffs and wishes his sister would stop trying to meddle.

"No, did my sister say I was?"

"Yeah. What for?"

"Wrong person," he says, turning back to the shelves. "She meant the guy at the front."

Whereas he never has anything nice to say to girls (or anyone in general, to be honest), Bertholt is painfully shy around them, and Levi thinks the kid might as well get some practice—but when he sees his coworker at the food court later buying ice cream for the second girl Isabel sent over, he thinks his sister is doing everyone favors except him.

.

.

.

He's glad he's not in high school anymore or surely everyone would be gossiping about just why Levi Ackerman always wants to see girls at the local mall's Hallmark—never mind that Isabel's the one telling them to go find him, of course—but when a blond with chin-length hair, bright blue eyes, delicate features, and who, oh right, is _male_ shows up, Levi immediately fires off an irritated text to his sister: _Stop. Just stop._

_What,_ is her reply, _so you weren't looking for Armin? People make that mistake sometimes._

_Give it up, Isabel._

He's resigned himself to never seeing the girl again—in fact, if she did reappear sometime, he would probably realize he was just being stupid the whole time and she actually doesn't meet the expectations his brain has created—so as he heads for work one day nearly a month after the first time he met her, he only mutters a "sorry" and doesn't turn when he accidentally brushes someone on his way in.

"It's fine; I should've watched where I was going," a female voice responds cheerfully, and he looks up and freezes.

It's her again—bright hair and warm eyes and smiling that lovely smile that highlights the grace of her features; his memory did not do her justice. He can only nod dumbly and watch as she walks away before it hits him that he really is utterly screwed because 1. _grace of her features?_ what the actual _fuck_ and 2. she's gone again.

_You're a fucking idiot and clearly you're not meant to talk to her so whatever,_ he tells himself, walking through the entrance to the store, preparing to begin another shift, though something sours in his mouth at the taste of the words.

He steps up to the counter only to have Ymir step out from behind it and tower over him with her arms crossed. "Dumbass," she says.

He scowls; he won't be insulted by high school girls, no matter how tall they are. "What?"

And Ymir is similar to him in that regard, in that she doesn't like to say things in as many words when actions will do, so she simply holds out a hand and says, "Go."

It takes a moment for his eyes to process what they see: a single earring in the shape of a flower resting in the center of her palm.

"What did Isabel say to—"

Ymir rolls her eyes, shoves the earring into his hand, and pushes him around. _"Go."_

Levi turns in the direction the girl did, left, and picks up his pace. It's a school day so the mall isn't as crowded, though many students like to sit in the food court with iced coffee or smoothies and their computers to write papers. He reaches an intersection soon enough and glances around, wondering if he should pick a random way to go or just give up now, when he sees a flash of orange-yellow in the corner of his vision.

She's sitting on a bench outside the Apple store, her bag resting next to her, her thumbs typing away at her phone. Her hair isn't really blond, he thinks, as he walks up to her, more like a shade between red and blond—strawberry blond? Auburn? He has no idea—and very soft-looking.

He clears his throat. She looks up, sees him, and her lips twitch into a smile. His traitorous heart starts to thump faster in his chest.

"Oh, hey," she says. "You work at Hallmark, right?"

He nods and when she continues to stare at him expectantly, his throat dries up, so he just stretches out a hand.

Her eyes widen and she plucks the earring from his palm, holding it up to look closely at it. "I didn't know I dropped this—thanks! God, if I'd lost this… thank you so much….?" She cocks her head at him then and he clears his throat.

"Levi."

"Levi," she repeats, and he hates that his throat is parched because swallowing hurts. "I'm Petra. It's really nice of you to bring this to me—how'd you know it was mine?" Because, he notices, her hair covers her ears right now and he hadn't noticed earrings on her when he'd run into her a moment ago.

His mind flashes to Ymir shoving him out the door and Isabel pretty much making everyone who remotely fits his description go find him, but there's no way he's going to mention any of that, so he mutters, "I recognized them from last time you were here. Middlemist red, right? Not very common."

Only once the words have left his mouth does he realize how pathetic they sound anyway: _I recognized your earrings from a month ago. I'm not obsessed or anything._ He wants to find the nearest wall and smash his forehead into it, but the girl—Petra—looks delighted.

"Yeah, they're middlemist red flowers. How'd you know?"

He scratches the back of his neck. "Uh, I didn't always work at Hallmark. The owner of this flower shop, she loved rare flowers and… I know what a lot of them look like."

She beams at that and he feels a flush creep up his face no matter how hard he tries to fight it off. "Well," she says, checking her watch, "you probably have to get to work, right? I won't hold you any longer." Before he can start to feel anything like disappointment, she adds, "I'll be here 'til nighttime; I'm going to see a friend. If you're here then and you're free, I can buy you a drink if you'd like. As a thank you." Her smile turns mischievous. "Maybe lavender or chamomile tea or something; I know how much you like flowers."

He tells himself to stay cool, but he's pretty sure his face turns redder than her earrings.


End file.
